


son of a preacher

by lacecat (orphan_account)



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Revolutionary War, join me in my love for this ship, revolutionary war boyfriends, sort of ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:43:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8316085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: “Ben, it’s not safe,” he tries at first. “What with all that’s happening, you’d best keep your nose out of any business.”
“I’ve gone to college. They need men like me, and I can help the cause. You’ve heard about the tea movement in Boston this past winter. There’s going to be a push back, a rebellion against the British.” He says the words proudly, but Caleb can only think of  what happens to idealistic young men during war.
----------------
(in which Caleb tries to convince Ben to stay, but ends up following him into a war, because that's what you do when you're in love)





	

**Author's Note:**

> While I'm procrastinating, this just happened, so here you go. I really considered a sad ending, but decided that the potential for sadness in this fandom is just too easy, so I'll contribute this. Cheers!

•••

 

It’s the spring of 1774, and it’s one of the warmest that Caleb has recalled in Setauket. 

 

He’s back from an overseas trip, and there’s enough coin in his pocket for him to live comfortably for the immediate future, taking odd jobs and helping his uncle out on the farm. 

 

It’s also the year after Ben has finally graduated from Yale, and they’ve found themselves back in the town of their childhood. Ben is fresh and idealistic from graduation, and Caleb plays his loyal listener to the philosophy that Ben loves to debate.

 

During the time that they’ve both been gone, something has shifted in the air. Perhaps it’s the faint suggestion of war in the air, as the British impose more taxes and start living in their homes, and news of the Sons of Liberty and them burning buildings over stamps trickles into the small sleepy town of Setauket. 

 

Caleb is determined to ignore the conflict that prickles under the surface of the colonies. There’s no sense in war, and as he goes to Reverend Tallmadge’s sermons with Ben, he can’t help but to agree with the reverend in that there is no use in unnecessarily risking lives, that this conflict will only end in misery.

 

Ben plays the role of dutiful son to his father’s face, but when he’s alone with Caleb, the truth comes out, and he seethes over the injustices that he perceives, the pamphlets that he gets from his Yale friends. 

  
  
“They’re taking our liberties, bleeding working men dry while ignoring our voices in Parliament. Is it a foolish risk to defend our beliefs, to stand up to the cowards in Whitehall?” Ben hisses to him over a mug of ale once, and Caleb has to drag him by his sleeve out of the tavern while casting glances around so to prevent anyone from overhearing. 

 

While Caleb was in Greenland, it seems that Ben has developed a Patriot streak a mile wide. Even now, as they’re lying in one of the grassy fields behind the Brewster farm, waiting for the sun to set, Ben is talking about red and white striped flags and taxes on tea. Caleb listens to the rumbling tones of his voice, partly in interest, but also thinks about what happens during such conflicts. He’s grown up with stories of the Seven Years’ War, after all, the losses of war serving as cautionary tales to action. 

 

That’s not to say he’s a Tory- the British are tyrants, but Caleb is not keen on sticking his neck out so far as to catch a noose. He’s even less pleased that Ben has not learned self-preservation at Yale, it seems. 

 

Ben says something else, and Caleb snaps to attention. “What was that?” 

 

“I said, maybe I want to live in the city,” Ben says, and Caleb’s blood runs cold. He knows that the Sons of Liberty issue their declarations from York City. It’s slightly better than Boston, but not by much. 

 

Caleb tries to imagine staying in Setauket without Ben, and realizes that if Ben goes, he goes. “What, you mean now?” 

 

“Caleb, here’s nothing for me here, it makes sense. Samuel’s already there anyways.” He hesitates for a brief second, not seeing how Caleb hides how much those words hurt him.

 

Ben continues, “You could come with me.” His voice is casual, but he’s holding eye contact too intensely with Caleb, as if he would actually expect him to not follow.

 

Caleb rolls onto his side so that he can look at Ben fully, and Ben matches his movement. His eyes meet wide blue ones, framed by light lashes. 

 

“Ben, it’s not safe,” he tries at first. “What with all that’s happening, you’d best keep your nose out of any business.” 

 

“I’ve gone to college. They need men like me, and I can help the cause. You’ve heard about the tea movement in Boston this past winter. There’s going to be a push back, a rebellion against the British.” He says the words proudly, but Caleb can only think ofwhat happens to idealistic young men during war. 

 

“What about your father?” 

 

“What about him? He’s content to stay by his altar and preach. I want to stand up for our rights.”

 

Now Caleb gets angry. “You act like it’s easy to fight a war. You think that you can hide behind pieces of paper? Those aren’t going to shield you from bullets!”  


“No, they won’t. Which is why when they form an army, I’ll be the first to sign up!” Ben retorts. 

 

“An army- Tallmadge, you couldn’t shoot a deer, what makes you think you could shoot a man?” Caleb exclaims, sitting up more. 

 

“I’d learn! Besides, someone has to do it, and I’m not going to watch as the British take everything we hold dear,” Ben insists, the tops of his cheeks going flushed as he jabs in the air. “I could do it, I would die for it.” 

 

The words shock Caleb, and he pushes Ben over suddenly, rolling them so that he has an arm to Ben’s chest. “Don’t you ever fucking say that,” he snarls, putting pressure on Ben’s chest, the other man too surprised to try to fight him off. “You’re not going to die in some godforsaken pit in the woods. Not you, you don’t get to do that to me,” and the words feel bitter in his mouth, coming ragged out of his chest. 

 

Ben stares wide-eyed up at him for a moment, before his gaze softens. “I’m sorry,” he says, and there’s a jump in his jaw, but he does look apologetic. “I won’t take it back, though.”  


Caleb lets up on the pressure on his chest, sitting up more until he’s not so close to him. He feels tired. “You’re meant for more than cannon fodder. Remember that, all right?”

 

The words bring a genuine smile to Ben’s face, and as Caleb gets off him, he sits up fully. “Would you leave with me, though? Maybe not York City, but out of this town, to somewhere new?”   


“Of course I would,” Caleb replies easily, ignoring the lie. He knows that Ben will try to leave, to do something dumb. “But maybe not now, wait a bit? For my sake, save my heart at least until the summer’s over.” 

 

Ben laughs, and he blessedly changes the topic to something lighter, such as Abe and Anna’s impending nuptials and the displeasure of their parents. 

 

Caleb thinks himself a simple man, wants a roof over his head, a warm body at his side, friends and family near him. He knows about the darker things in life, has seen men die from drunken brawls and the cold clutches of the ocean. He knows that there are men who inspire, and then there are men to carry out the task.

 

He left school as soon as he could, first helping his uncle on the farm, then going on a whaleboat to earn his keep. He sees the world in shades of gray, how men can go from good to bad and back. He’s not like Ben, whose views tend towards dividing the world into black and white, good and bad, right and wrong. 

 

Caleb’s no inspirational leader, not like Reverend Tallmadge, who commands the respect of the town, not like Ben, who is the cornerstone of correspondence from his peers from Yale and every other college, and not even like his uncle, whose quiet thoughts earn him the loyalty of the Whigs in town. 

 

Ben is perfect, unsullied, untouched, and Caleb wants to protect him from what is out there in the world, so that he can shine brightly. He is one of the few men that Caleb knows that truly has a good heart, and Ben wants to- is going to- change the world. 

 

He almost didn’t go to Yale, at first. Even as his father and brother urged him, he was hesitant to leave them behind, especially when money was tight following a bad year. It was Caleb who finally convinced him in the end, told him that it was what the late Mrs. Tallmadge would have wanted, for her son to get a college education, and those words had been enough to shift Ben’s mind. 

 

He didn’t mention how he’d used most of his money to pay the Tallmadge’s debts in town, easing the load on the reverend, so that when Ben inquired around, it eased his consciousness to know that his father would not be left behind in debt. 

 

Ben wasn’t something to be protected as if he was an object, he deserved to be shielded from the horrors of the world so that he could make it better. Caleb knew that, he put him on a pedestal, but it was only a fault because he loved him.

 

He loved him. He was in love with him. He suspected for quite some time, since they were young and Ben had looked up to him like he had strung the stars in the sky. He still looked at him with far too much fondness that Caleb deserved, but as they grew older, Caleb were careful to hide his affections less they be interpreted as something decidedly unethical by another townsperson, or worse, that Ben would cast him aside, rightly calling him a sodomite, a sinner.

 

He was the reverend’s son, after all, and although Ben didn’t look to the Bible with the same intensity as his father does, he grew up in a household that was seeped in the scripture. Caleb tells him stories of tavern wenches with their skirts bunched around their waists to make Ben blush, but he leaves out stories of cold nights above the ships, when men pressed together blurred the line between proper and necessity, that Caleb knew the feeling of stubble against his neck and legs. 

 

They’ve never talked about it, but Caleb couldn’t live with himself knowing that he’s harmed Ben, that his thoughts could cause the other man torment, suggesting that beyond death was punishment for the sins. 

 

He certainly can’t let war break him either, for that matter, and so each night, Caleb prays that the war doesn’t come, that Ben doesn’t get swept up in the crossfire. 

 

But now he watches as the sun sets behind Ben, watches as the golden rays light up his tousled hair and the corners of his smile, as if God himself intended for Ben to be the ideal that man strives for. He almost reaches to tuck a tendril behind his ear, but he stops himself. 

 

•••

 

Ben grows from a gangly, awkward-looking teenager to a proper young man, building lean muscle on his arms and thighs from helping out on the Brewster farm all summer. Before, people payed him no mind, but now that he’s tall and commands a presence, they look to him when he walks into a room. 

 

When they’re in town, Caleb amusedly watches as young women flock to his side as if he’s a beacon and they’re helplessly drawn, and he is delighted to watches Ben’s ears turn pink and he chokes on his tongue, the reverend’s son in him too proper to even consider accepting a scandalous offer. Some things never change, after all. 

 

But other things do change. While the British impose act over act, they stop saying “if” when referring to the war, and start using “when”.

 

Setauket is a town loyal to the king, that’s for sure, but even the most seasoned Loyalist would be fool to think that there is not unrest in neighboring towns and the rest of the colonies for that matter. 

 

Every Sunday, Reverend Tallmadge tells them to love thy neighbor, and to respect the natural order of things that God has intended, but even his words seem more and more hollow. Ben tells Caleb that although his father has sworn to never kill another man again, he’s still a Whig, and that his late-night meetings with Lucas Brewster are likely more than discussing the crops and weather. 

 

Caleb still lives in Setauket, but takes occasional trips out on his uncle’s boat to keep himself sane with the spray of salt water. He offers to take Ben with him most of the time, but Ben gets queasy on boats, and declines his offers. 

 

In the late summer, there’s an outbreak of cholera. The church is converted into a makeshift ward, officially due to a nearby well, but Caleb also suspects that people send their ill loved ones as a last measure of hope that they withstand the illness.

 

Reverend Tallmadge also opens up his home to the ill that wish to avoid getting their children sick, and sends Sam and Ben away to the Brewster farm both to avoid illness and to open up their beds. 

  
Sam gets the room that Caleb’s father once lived in, while Ben and Caleb share the small bed that’s tucked away in Caleb’s room. 

 

They already worked side by side during the day, and even the additional time of night doesn’t make them grow tired of each other. Sure, they argue, as Caleb has a reckless side that brings out Ben’s stubbornness, and Ben can say such insensitive things that causes Caleb to lose his temper, but at the end of the day, they’re as thick as thieves, and grow even closer in such proximity. 

 

One night, they’re lying in the cot. It’s hot for early autumn, and Caleb has peeled off everything but his breeches. Ben, always the modest one, keeps on his shirt, but his hair is loose and splayed across the pillows, and Caleb thinks to himself, _I would die for him._

 

It’s a quiet night, with the other two inhabitants of the house long asleep, and perhaps it’s because Ben has not mentioned leaving in several weeks, or it’s the way that the moon is shining through the window that’s made Caleb drunk with this kind of rare peacefulness, but he says, “I don’t think I could imagine a life without you, you know.” 

 

Ben turns his head, the candlelight illuminating the edge of his cheekbone. “Of course you can’t, you’d be forever freezing your arse on a boat somewhere in the Atlantic without me to make you come back,” he replies, but his gaze is fond on the side of Caleb’s face. “I missed you every day at Yale. I’m glad to be back.” 

 

Caleb doesn’t dare to tilt his head and test his self control. He attempts at brevity, “Aw, you don’t have to humor me, Tallboy. Guess that wine from earlier’s still in my blood.”  


Ben then puts a hand on his arm, insistent, and then Caleb turns his head to look at him.is eyes are darker in the dim light of the room, searching as he looks at Caleb. “I’m serious. I missed you.”

 

He exhales, searching for words. “Yeah,” is what he settles on, and there’s something churning low in his chest as Ben continues to look at him, as if deciding. 

 

“Samuel’s going to join the Sons of Liberty,” he whispers instead, and Caleb’s brow furrows slightly, his heart clenching in his chest. “He told me not to tell anyone before he’s left.” 

 

Caleb considers his possible responses, and asks, “Why are you telling me?”

 

“I might follow him. Not now, not when your uncle needs me to help you both with the harvest. But soon. I can’t stand by,” and Ben’s voice cuts off as if he’s said too much. “I had to tell you.” 

 

There’s tension between them, and Caleb understands now that Ben is his anchor, and if he goes, Caleb could either be dragged along with him or keep him safe from the shoals. “Then we’ll both go,” he decides in another exhale. “Together.” 

 

“I can’t-” Ben starts, but Caleb cuts him off quietly with a hand over Ben’s on his arm. 

 

“I’m not letting you go by yourself. I wish you’d not go, but I’ll follow you.”

 

For one thrilling moment, it looks like Ben’s eyes flicker down to his mouth. But then Ben rolls over, says, “I’m exhausted. Is your uncle serious when he says we’re harvesting the entire apple crop tomorrow?” 

 

Then they’re both falling asleep, and Caleb pushes aside the conversation to a future date. They harvest the apples when the trees turn red and yellow, and prepare for a long winter as more news comes through, of fights between colonists and British soldiers. They’re not at war, but it’s close. 

 

Samuel leaves to join the Continental Army just as the weather is turning properly cold. The British that have stationed themselves near Setauket question the reverend and Ben, but ultimately, they claim no prior knowledge, and Samuel Tallmadge is written off as a traitor. 

 

The Tallmadges, unknown to them, are put on a list of possible traitors to the crown. Caleb only knows this because one morning, de Jong pulls him to the side as he’s carrying supplies back to the farm, whispers in his ear that he best not associate with that Tallmadge boy if he wants to keep out of trouble.

 

Caleb wrestles his arm out of the man’s grasp, keeps calm, and leaves, the man’s small pale eyes following him as he leaves. 

 

The Brewsters were likely to be put on that list soon enough, anyways.

 

The winter is long, and Ben eventually moves back to his father’s house. Caleb doesn’t say anything when he tells him this, and Ben’s eyes have a strange look as he packs up his few possessions and leaves. 

 

They still see a lot of each other, but that strange tension is more present than not when they’re together. Ben attends his father’s sermons, but Caleb sees the tight lines of his soldiers when his father preaches non-violence, and can almost picture a dark blue wool coat draped over them. 

 

Caleb starts to grow a beard, and Ben cuffs him in the shoulder when it’s clear that he’s no longer shaving. 

 

“It looks good, though,” he tells Caleb, his eyes warm, and Caleb desperately tries not to imagine dragging said beard inside of Ben’s thighs to make him red all over. 

 

He comes later that night anyways at the thought, his hand working frantically, as he pictures Ben grasping his hair and moaning so sweetly, stiffening like Caleb knows he does when Ben thinks he’s asleep, a hand worked down his breeches.

 

•••

 

 

News of the war that’s broken out is delivered by frantic letters from relatives of townspeople in the city, splashed over the pages of the newspapers from the city. The British are streaming in all along the coast, with several already stationed in Setauket. 

 

Caleb keeps his head down, prays to the heavens that Ben does the same, and works for his uncle in the meantime. The British have all but banned unauthorized whalers, so he’s stuck on land for now. 

 

Ben comes striding into the small barn where Caleb is sorting cans of preserves, and says, “I’m leaving in a fortnight.” 

 

Caleb concentrates on not dropping the jar he’s holding and sets it down on the shelf with a heavy thud. “I figured.” 

 

This takes Ben by surprise. He was planning on Caleb arguing, even striking him. “You’re not angry.” 

 

Caleb brushes off dirt from his thighs, faces Ben. “I’m no Yale man, but I read somethingthe other day, in the newspaper. This man, Patrick Henry, he’s got some nerve in that speech he delivered, and I figured I should be supporting that.” 

 

He doesn’t say that when he read the words, even as they thrilled him, made his hands shake with anticipation as the ideas resonated within him, he had almost retched into the melting snow, as he picturing the war that Henry spoke of, and saw bloodied hair the color of sand. 

 

Ben’s face is almost comical. “Patrick Henry- Caleb, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t expect you to be reading his pamphlets.” He’s staring at Caleb like he’s not quite sure who’s standing in front of him. 

 

Caleb shrugs, giving a sharp grin. “What can I say? Guess I’m as Patriot as you are now, Tallmadge-”

 

He’s cut off as Ben closes the distance between them and seizes his face in a fierce kiss. 

 

Caleb is pushed back, both by the force of Ben’s movements as well as from surprise. Ben’s mouth is hot and dry on his, his movements inexperienced by no less decisive. 

 

He lets himself have a moment of satisfying his greed, barely moving his mouth against Ben’s, before wrenching his head back as he realizes that this is no dream of his. 

 

“What the hell, Ben?” Caleb hisses, darting a gaze around him, at the open barn door, their proximity to the house. That was no joking kiss, and as Ben stares at him with a slick mouth and wide eyes, as if shocked by his own movements, he says, unsteadily, “They hang men for that.” 

 

“I-” Ben stutters, his eyes widening even more. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did that for,” and when he takes a step back, he looks as if Caleb is about to strike him. 

 

He doesn’t want this for Ben. He doesn’t want to ruin him, corrupt him, but now as Ben is standing across from him, Caleb realizes that this decision is not his to make. It never was. 

 

“Do you not know why, or are you lying to me, Benjamin Tallmadge?” Caleb asks, keeping his gaze steady on Ben’s face. 

 

Ben looks more uncomfortable. Caleb is transfixed on the color high on his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to.” 

 

“I think that’s shite,” Caleb tells him, takes a step forward. Ben takes a step back, looking alarmed, like Caleb would ever take a swing at him, ever hurt him. “I think we’ve both been idiots.”   


“Caleb?” Ben gets out before Caleb wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down for another kiss.

 

He tastes sweet, his lips unsure, but as Caleb makes it very clear that he is not averse one bit to these proceedings, he kisses with more vigor, his hands coming up to clutch the sides of Caleb’s face, fingers tangled in his beard. 

 

Ben breaks away this time, panting slightly, still holding onto Caleb. “This isn’t something quick, is it,” he asks, his eyes still painfully hesitant, and Caleb takes a moment to process his words. 

 

“Tallboy, I’ve wanted this for quite some time. I’m not just looking for a warm body, I want you,” Caleb says, feeling the back of his neck get flushed at the admission, however true it is, because he needs Ben to understand this, needs to be straightforward with him. “Do you feel the same?” 

 

Ben nods vehemently, moving his arms down so that they’re on Caleb’s biceps. “I do. Caleb, I really do.” 

 

He gives a smile then, and a short thrill runs down his spine when he realizes that there’s nothing stopping him from giving Ben a quick peck at those words. “Well then, how’s bout we find ourselves someplace quiet,” Caleb suggests, watching Ben for his reaction, expecting Ben to realize his mistake, to retract his actions. 

 

Ben goes a bit pink, but doesn’t step away. “You know I haven’t... done anything, right?” 

 

“Do you want to?” 

 

“Yes,” Ben breathes out, then closes his eyes. “I forgot. I told my father I’d meet him in half an hour. I’m telling him that I’m leaving.” 

 

Their conversation before Ben had promptly changed his life came rushing back to Caleb, taking away some of that giddy feeling. “Right. You’d best do that. I’ll be here.” 

 

Ben nods once, sharp, and begins to turn around, but Caleb catches him by the hip and draws him in for another soft kiss. “We’ll talk tonight, all right?” 

 

“All right,” Ben says, reluctantly drawing back, and leaves Caleb. 

 

He stares at the cans still on the shelf, and huffs out a laugh.

 

 

•••

 

 

That night, however, as Caleb drinks a cup of heady wine and sits on the front porch of his uncle’s house, Ben arrives, and it’s clear that something is wrong. Caleb takes one look at his drawn face and pours another cup for him. 

 

It’s dark out, and he can barely make out Ben’s expression now that they’re both turned away from the faint glow of the candles inside, only the moon overhead illuminating his profile.

 

“My father,” Ben starts, then cuts himself off, instead drinking the rest of the wine. Caleb waits for him to continue, worry growing, but doesn’t know what to say as Ben drops his knees to rest on the tops of his thighs, his head downturned. 

 

“He saw us,” Ben continues, and Caleb’s stomach drops. “He was visiting your uncle, didn’t know I’d be there. Saw us through the open door, I guess.”

 

“Shit,” Caleb swears under his breath. “Did he- is he-” 

 

“He told me to get out of his house. That this was a sin he could not forgive. I wish he would’ve hit me instead, that would have hurt less,” Ben says in a quiet, pained voice. “He hasn’t told the magistrate yet, so I suppose that’s why I’m not in a noose right now.” 

 

Caleb gets up and kneels in front of him, kisses his forehead softly as Ben starts to shake. He doesn’t know what else to do. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Caleb tells him. “I’m so sorry,” because what can he say to that? It’s his worst fear, that he’s caused Ben this sort of hurt. He knows that the reverend and Ben have their disagreements, but to be cast out, that must hurt worse than any fist.

 

“It’s not your fault,” Ben says softly, and his voice is hollow. “It’s my sin too. I-” and his voice chokes on a sob, and Caleb just holds him. He already knows what he has to do. 

 

Later, when Ben’s sobs diminish until he is a tired shell of a man, Caleb sneaks him into the house so that he can sleep off his misery in the bed that they shared those months ago. He waits until Ben is fast asleep before leaving, and takes his uncle’s pistol with him. 

 

The path to the Tallmadge house is well-known to Caleb, even in the dark cover of the night. There’s a candle shining through one of the first-floor rooms, and Caleb doesn’t hesitate when he opens the front door and walks in.

 

Nathaniel Tallmadge is sitting in one of the front rooms, staring into the fireplace. A book is abandoned besides him, and he glances sharply up as Caleb enters. 

 

His gaze turns hard as he sees who it is, even though he can clearly see the pistol at Caleb’s hip. “Get out. You’re not welcome in this house,” the reverend says.

Caleb ignores that, instead taking a seat across from the reverend. “He’s joining the rebels, you know,” is what he says instead. 

 

Tallmadge’s eyes widen, but he says nothing, his jaw clenched. Caleb continues, “He looks up to you, more than you’ll ever know. Do you want him to take a bullet to the head on some desolate field with the harsh words of his father still playing in his ears?”   


“You and him, it’s a sin,” the reverend replies. He looks old in the light, looking at Caleb with exhausted eyes. “The scripture says flee from sexual immorality. Our bodies belong to God, and those sins are against what God intended.”

 

“Corinthians, right?” Caleb says. “Therefore honor God with your bodies. I love him. I don’t expect you to forgive that, but seeing as I’m about to follow him into this damned war, I want you to forgive him.”

 

The reverend studies him for a second. “Why are you here, Caleb?”

 

Caleb keeps his gaze steady. “He’s meant for more. You and I both know that. I’m a believer in the rebel’s cause, but I’m going first to protect his back, because I love him.” He draws the pistol, and sets it on the table between them, turns it so the handle is towards Nathaniel Tallmadge. “I’m giving you to opportunity. Shoot me, if it means you can forgive Ben.”

 

“I swore to never shoot another man,” the reverend says steadily. 

 

“Then you understand me when I say that I’ve sworn to God himself that I’m going to make sure he makes it out of this war,” he replies. “Forgive him.”  


 

When the reverend doesn’t make a move, Caleb rises, and leaves him staring at the gun. 

 

 

•••

 

 

Ben wakes up early the next morning, the sun just faint above the horizon. He’s relaxed among Caleb’s sheets until he realizes where he is, and his eyes open up as he sits up with a start. 

 

“Hope you slept well. We’re going,” Caleb tells him from across the room, where he’s already packed two bags with food and supplies to get them through the next few days. “I told my uncle. It’s best we head out now before the sun’s up.” 

 

Ben nods, shakily, and Caleb watches him with worried eyes as he dresses.

 

They’re on one of the lesser known paths out of Setauket when they’re intercepted by Nathaniel Tallmadge, who steps out from behind a tree. 

 

From beside Caleb, Ben stiffens, looking around as if expecting a dozen British regulars to also step out, to doom both of them before they’ve even left Setauket. 

 

The reverend looks between the two of them for a briefest second, before he holds a hand out to Ben. 

 

Ben takes his father’s hand uncertainly, and the reverend’s expression is somewhere between quiet pride and apprehension when he shakes it, then brings Ben into a hug. “You do our name proud, son,” he says, and Ben nods briskly, managing a small smile, before the reverend steps aside to let them go.

 

He does catch Caleb by the arm though, whispers something into his ear before pressing a pistol into his hands. Caleb looks him in the eye, and keeps on walking. 

 

Ben never asks him what his father said.

 

•••

 

 

They meet up with the Continental Army somewhere in New York, and both of them throw themselves into basic training, learning how to shoot a man, how to march in line. 

 

Caleb does well, but Ben is the one who excels. The officers take note of him, raising impressed eyes at his foresight and shooting ability. It’s not long before he’s promoted to captain of the dragoon regiment, and true to his word, Caleb stays by his side.

 

The months pass by in a blur. Ben is shot by Robert Rogers, Caleb helps to start the intelligence ring that Ben has become focused on. Then he almost loses Ben to the icy water of the Delaware, and Caleb is still reeling at the possibility of losing him when they both meet Washington. 

 

Between fighting and surviving, they are not afforded the luxury of touching each other more than frantic, quick kisses in the night, when they’re sure no one can see them. At night, when he touches himself, he imagines Ben with swollen, wet lips, pictures the flex of his shoulders as he delivers a killing blow to a British officer, and he has to bite down on his arm when he comes in order not to wake his tent mates. But the kisses get rarer and rarer, both of them caught between their work and the higher cause that they’re fighting for. 

 

Ben grows his sandy hair long enough to tie back in a braid, and Caleb’s beard grows long and dense. The months of fighting have made them both older, both in spirit and in body. Ben has new steel in his voice and commands, becoming deadly and cunning in a way that the boy from Setauket never was. Caleb learns to crave the thrill of adrenaline when he’s setting an ambush, learns how to bargain and push, how to track. 

 

He also learns how to calm his neves when he sees Ben covered in blood, a tightness to his jaw that wasn’t there before. When they were ambushing the regulars at the safe house, Ben shoots a man who’s about to put a bayonet through Caleb, and their eyes meet through the chaos of battle, before they’re both forced apart again.

 

They’ve both grown older, but Caleb still sees the boy from Setauket in Ben, something to be cherished and even protected. He knows Ben can protect himself, but the urge to shield him never quite went away. 

 

It’s one cold winter night, during the occupation of Valley Forge, that finds them both in Ben’s tent. Ben’s tossing papers left and right when Caleb enters the tent, having just arrived back from a meeting with Abe. There hadn’t been any decent intel, so it was quick, but he had unfortunately ran into a two-man patrol on his way back, and had the wound to show for it. 

 

Ben looks up absent-mindedly, but then his eyes widen when he takes in Caleb. He gets up as if to hug him, but then spies the deep cut that runs down his neck to the curve of his shoulder, visible through the torn cloth of his shirt. “Caleb- what happened?” 

 

Caleb drinks in the sight of him, giving a broad grin. “Tall boy! Don’t mind me, I’m fighting a war after all while you’re here in this tent.”

 

Ben comes close then, touching the base of his neck with gentle fingers, and Caleb’s eyes flutter shut. “That’ll scar.”   


“At least I’m not the pretty one,” Caleb jokes, his eyes still closed. There’s movement as Ben removes his fingers, but when Caleb opens his eyes again, Ben is back with a cloth.

 

He maneuvers Caleb until he’s sitting on Ben’s bed, and Ben kneels in front of him. He takes the cloth and dabs at the edges of the cloth, dipping it in the basin of water that’s situated next to the bed. “You’re going to have to keep this clean,” Ben says, his eyes fixed on the wound. 

 

Caleb tilts his head back as Ben starts to wipe the blood away. “Right, right. You’re worse than the doctor,” he says with a scoff. There’s a crease in Ben’s brow that doesn’t sit right with Caleb, and he glances down at him. “They working you hard, Sackett and Washington?” 

 

Ben’s face remains impassive except for the deep line that tells Caleb he’s especially annoyed about something. “Not too much. But I’m not the one who’s going around nearly getting beheaded.”

 

Caleb catches his hand then, stilling its motions. “Really, I’m fine,” he tries to say, before wincing as Ben continues his ministrations even as Caleb’s hand is on top of his. “Shit.” 

 

“Shit is right,” Ben says darkly. “Did you run into a British patrol?”   


He gives a half-shrug. “On the way back. I didn’t have any intel, but I guess something didn’t sit right with them, so they tried to put me down. Got them both quick though with the old axe at least.” 

 

“Not quick enough,” the other man growls, and now Caleb lowers his head, bringing Ben’s hand down with his. 

 

“You all right there?” 

 

“I’m not all right,” Ben spits out, and now it’s evident that he’s furious. “You have no regard for your own well-being-”

 

“It’s not exactly risk free what I’m doing-” 

 

“But you should have known to avoid their routes, take the long way, especially if you don’t have any intel-”

 

“Well now I’m not exactly keen on spending an entire night on the water, where you would know best, it’s quite cold-” 

 

“You have to protect yourself!” Ben says then, much louder, and Caleb realizes with a start that there are angry tears building up at the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t know what to do. 

 

Ben scrubs a hand over his face when Caleb doesn’t say anything. “You’re an idiot, Caleb Brewster. I know you’re good at what you do, and I trust your judgement, but I can’t lose you.” 

 

“Now, I’m sure you can find another courier to meet up with Abe-”   


“No, I can’t lose you,” Ben says, and he meets Caleb’s eyes. “Please,” and it’s that last word, said in such a raw tone, that makes Caleb take hold of his jaw and kiss him.

 

He’d always been focused on how he couldn’t deal with Ben dying. He had never thought about the other man, how Ben seemed only to smile anymore when Caleb was next to him, that his feelings could ever be returned. Ben said he loved him, sure, but it was words, not the actions now, not how Ben was shaking a bit under his hands just now, clutching onto Caleb like he was going to get up and leave.

 

Caleb deepens the kiss, his eyes shut as he breaths in through his nose. Their lips gently disconnect, as their foreheads are pressed together. “I’ll be more careful,” he says quietly, and the fight leaves Ben’s shoulders.

 

He’s then aware of their close proximity,Ben’s abdomen pressed up between his legs where Caleb had parted them, and the fact that just from the kiss, Caleb’s beginning to get hard, no doubt where Ben can feel through his breeches. His eyes open to look into Ben’s eyes, which are looking back at him with a strange brand of determinedness. Without breaking eye contact, Ben reaches down to the ties of Caleb’s breeches, starts to untie them.

 

Caleb can only watch with wide eyes as Ben draws him out of his clothes, grasps his rapidly hardening cock with a loose grip. He opens his as if to insist that they don’t need to do this, when Ben bends his head down to put his mouth around the head, and a groan is punched out of Caleb’s lungs instead.

 

It’s awkward, between the angle and Ben’s lack of experience, but Caleb has never been more turned on in his life. Ben’s mouth is warm and wet, and even as he accidentally grazes his teeth on the underside of Caleb’s cock, it’s too good. 

 

He draws his head down too far, and chokes, and Caleb’s hands are then on his jaw, gently moving him up. “Shh, it’s all right, take it easy,” he says, before Ben takes him down again.

  
Ben’s a quick study, and Caleb is careful not to thrust into his mouth, forces his hips to be still even as Ben clutches his thighs, gives a moan when Caleb’s hand finds its way to card in his blond hair. 

 

Caleb is about to come embarrassingly soon, tries to tap Ben’s head as a courtesy, doesn’t want it to end so soon. “ _Ben_ , you’re too good, your mouth, would it kill you to be bad at something for once in your life, _Christ,”_ and Ben smiles around his cock at that, and at that sight, Caleb gives a low moan, his eyes fixed on the stretch of Ben’s mouth, and comes in his mouth with a shudder.

 

As he comes back to awareness, Ben’s mouth is so slick, and Caleb thinks nothing of it as he pulls Ben up into a hot kiss. He can taste himself on his mouth, and normally that wouldn’t be his sort of thing, but it’s Ben who’s panting and squirming now, and he can feel Ben’s hard cock from where he’s pressed up against him now. “Come on, get up here,” Caleb says, and sits back on the bed so that Ben can straddle his legs. 

 

He’s loathe to let go of Ben, but he undoes the flap of Ben’s pants, rucks up his white shirt and waistcoat. Ben clutches onto his shoulders, his ass a welcome weight on Caleb’s lap, and for a moment, Caleb imagines Ben riding his cock in this position, his lean torso stretched out so that Caleb can lave desperate kisses and leave dark bruises everywhere that his clothes could hide.

 

The other man gives a slight whine from the back of this throat when Caleb is caught up in his thoughts, and Caleb snaps back to attention as Ben blushes from the sound he’s made. “Come on now, I’ll make it so good for you,” he whispers, enjoying the way that Ben’s eyes flutter close as he grasps Ben in his hand. 

 

From this position, Caleb can jerk him off with one of his hands while reaching around to clutch at his back with the other. Ben bites his lip to muffle the sounds coming from his throat, and Caleb licks the column of his throat. 

 

“Caleb,” Ben pants, as his hips thrust up into Caleb’s hand. “You- ah, more, please-” 

 

Caleb twists his wrist, watches Ben’s reactions until he’s got a good rhythm going, finding the spot underneath his cock that makes Ben jerk just a little more. He’s never been much of a dirty talker, but with Ben like this, coming undone on top of him, his brain seems to disconnect from his mouth. “You’re gorgeous Ben, can’t believe we’ve been waiting to do this. I can’t wait until I can get you underneath me, so I can kiss you all over, make you take me, until you’re begging for it. Christ, Tall boy, you’re so good for me,” and it’s the nickname that makes Ben’s fly open.

 

He tilts his head down, and Caleb meets him in the middle for a kiss, their teeth clashing, but it’s too good, and Ben comes with a groan, working Caleb’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

 

Caleb holds him through it, until Ben is slumped over him. He’s pretty sure his coat will need a wash, but he can’t make himself care enough to get up. 

 

Eventually, Ben gets up, but only to get the rag where it was abandoned on the ground next to them. He grins a bit at Caleb, wiping them both up. “Thank you,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his mouth.

  
At that, Caleb gives a small laugh. “No need to thank me, Tallmadge. Just tell me I’m the only subordinate you’re fucking,” and Ben also laughs at that, kissing him again.

 

“Trust me, you’re the only one.” 

 

He knows that they will never be the same boys from Setauket, but if he can have Ben like this, he can’t bring himself to care.

 

Perhaps one day, after the war, which Caleb knows they’re going to win, even as bleak as it looks now, they’ll find a small cottage just outside of Connecticut. They can live off the land, perhaps get a dog to help Caleb hunt, and Ben can fill up bookshelves with political propaganda and tell Caleb all about it over dinner. They can share a bed at night and no one will know, no one has to know.

 

Perhaps. But now, after Ben’s stripped off his waistcoat and joined Caleb on the bed, curling around him just like they’ve done so many times before, Caleb doesn’t care to think about the future. He’ll leave that to pragmatists like Ben. Now, he’s got what he wants.

 

•••

 

 

 


End file.
